A Travelling Romany

A tramp was he, a vagrant, A lost soul from the street, With clothes all torn and shabby And no shoes on his feet. Our hearts were heavy-laden, We bowed our heads to pray, And offered to take him home On that cold and rainy day. We fed him ~ soothed his brow Gave him warmth and new attire. We spoke to him, we joked with him that poor man from the mire. A bed was made and whisky laid Upon the bedside chair...but With the dawn, our friend had gone On the road to 'Anywhere'. 'Twas a sad farewell to a fairy-tale For he was a Romany; his life He lived beneath the stars A travelling mystery.